


Drama, Drama!

by PaperDaydream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acting, Actor Dean, All sorts of both kinds of drama, Alternate Universe - High School, Cas has stage fright, Cas is an angel, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dean and Sam are still hunters, Drama, F/F, F/M, M/M, Musical, Possibly haunted theater, Rent is canon (and contains character death), Sam does tech, Supernatural things are real, Theater - Freeform, This is Rent so warning for mature themes like drug use in the play, This will be fairly innocent despite being Rent though, rent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperDaydream/pseuds/PaperDaydream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to pass his drama class for communications credits, senior Dean Winchester is forced to leave the football field and take to the stage in his high school's production of Rent. To his horror, he's a natural, and gets cast as one of the lead roles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Extra Credit

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story is a high school au, but the supernatural does exist, and Sam and Dean are still involved in the family business, and the angels are actual angels, etc. (Almost as if it could fit into pre-canon if it was possible for these characters to all attend one school.) Also, I should warn you, this story is about the characters putting on a production of Rent, so obviously there are going to be mentions of some of those more mature themes that appear in the play. However, I as the author am pretty innocent myself, so don't expect anything too extreme. Think of it as "this is going to be as innocent as possible while still concerning Rent ." There will be nothing hugely shocking except small mentions of things that happen canonically in the musical. (And a language warning obviously, because the Winchesters do swear.)

Dean stormed out of the classroom in a rage. This was ridiculous. So he’d failed a few tests on ancient Greek theatre and Shakespeare. So what? He wasn’t going to be in some damn play! A musical, no less!  
Why were communications credits even a requirement? It was just stupid! He could communicate fine, thank you very much! He was a star football player, and one of the most popular kids in the entire school! “Communication” his ass! What did drama class have to do with communication anyway? Knowing who the first actor was or how to define 20 obscure theater terms wasn’t exactly what he would consider a conversation starter!  
He burst into the lunchroom, and sat down at his usual table, silently fuming. His friends gave him some questioning looks, but everyone knew not to bother him in a mood like that. They all kept glancing up at him, and then turning quickly back to their lunches, as if he wasn’t going to notice, which of course, he did. He may not have been passing his classes with flying colors like his brother, Sam, but he wasn’t stupid.  
Dean went throughout the rest of his day too annoyed to speak. This was the worst possible assignment ever. Was it even worth doing the extra credit to save his grade? Probably not, considering the fact that he probably wouldn’t even be attending this school anymore within the month. There was no telling when his dad would pull him out to go and hunt some werewolf halfway across the country.  
Of course, his dad had also specifically told him that he wanted him to keep up his grades this time. As a senior, Dean was only a few C-’s away from getting his diploma and being done with school for good, so that he could give all of his time to the family business.  
His dad was tired of pretending he cared about his education. If he screwed up this time, he would be furious.  
Dean sighed, passing by Sammy, who was waiting for him in the parking lot beside his Impala after school, to fling the door open and get into the driver seat. His brother frowned as he got in beside him. “Hey Dean, you okay?”  
“Fine!” he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re failing a class again and you’re screwed, aren’t you?”  
“None of your business,” he grumbled, “I’ll figure it out.”  
“Sure…” Sam said sarcastically, with a small smirk. “I told you that making out with Lisa instead of studying was going to kick you in the ass.”  
“Shut up,” Dean muttered, but Sam was right. He had to face the facts. He had no other choices except to either audition, or flunk and face his dad. He was doomed. Worse yet, he was going to have to find a monologue and an audition song by this Friday.


	2. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has no idea how to find himself a monologue and audition song. Oddly enough, Castiel seems to know exactly what he needs to look for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a conversation written out in passed notes between Dean and Cas. Dean is bold, Cas is italics, just in case I didn't make that clear enough. Thanks for reading!

It was no easy task to secretly pick out a monologue and song and avoid total humiliation when you lived temporarily in a tiny motel room and your brother, who was studying in the bed two feet away from yours, could hear every single word you spoke. It was already Wednesday, and he’d had zero luck finding anything. Dean knew that he was running out of time, especially if he wanted to practice, although he was still weighing the embarrassment of making a fool of himself at auditions against the torture he would surely endure if he got cast in the show after succeeding in impressing the director. Either way, he was definitely not telling Sam. He’d just have to continue his search in the library during lunch, which was perhaps the lamest thing he could possibly imagine, not to mention the fact that it would deprive him of actually having time to eat. He desperately hoped that his nerd of a brother wouldn’t be studying in there already.

To his irritation, Dean found himself feeling stressed out all day long over finding his stupid audition pieces for his stupid audition for the stupid play. By his fourth period language arts class, he was so on edge that he could scarcely think of anything else. He didn’t even know anything about musicals, or what was required to audition for one. That was why he’d been failing drama in the first place! He sure as hell wasn’t about to go and ask his probably evil teacher for the rules of auditioning he’d been asked to memorize two weeks ago. He’d probably just have to wing it. He could do that, right?

Over at the desk adjacent his own, his friend Castiel was staring at him with wide, concerned blue eyes, with his head tilted comically to the side like a puzzled baby bird. “Dean?” he asked uncertainly, “You seem stressed. Is there something upsetting you?”

Dean didn’t know what it was, but something about Castiel always made him feel comfortable talking to him. It wasn’t even like they were that close of friends. Cas was nice enough and everything, but Dean usually hung out with his football team, and Cas was one of the quietest, shyest, most nerdy kids that he had ever met. The two mostly talked only in language arts, where they sometimes paired up for group projects. Even then, Cas waited for Dean to suggest that they work together, as if afraid that he would decide that he was too cool to talk to him after all, which Dean thought was just ridiculous, because that was never going to happen. For one thing, Dean may have been a jock, but he was by no means a jerk, and anyone could see that Castiel needed a friend. Besides, Cas was unnaturally gifted in the art of literary analysis, and Dean could use all the extra points he could get to boost his grade. Even though Cas may have had his struggles with understanding social customs and human interaction, sometimes to the point where it felt like he was an alien curiously observing human culture or something, Dean had always for some reason felt pretty sure that Castiel could always be trusted to listen.

There was too much for him to explain the extent of his problem aloud during class, so he scrawled a quick note on the corner of his notebook paper and passed it over.

**Yes in fact, something is bothering me. My asshole of a drama teacher decided to force me into auditioning for the damn school play!**

Cas frowned thoughtfully at the note, and scrawled a quick response next to it before passing the paper back.

_I take it that’s a bad thing, judging by your language. This is for credit to pass your class, correct?_

**Yeah, and if I don’t pass, my dad is going to kill me!**

_So you are going to do this? To avoid being killed?_

**I guess I have no choice, huh?**

Cas gave him a funny look before writing out his reply.

_Dean, you do know that rehearsals for the musical are every day after school, right? It is a big commitment._

Dean read over the note and his heart sank like a rock in a pond. Every day? He couldn’t go to rehearsal every day! He had football practice almost every day!

He didn’t write anything else to Cas for a minute, trying to process this particularly bad stroke of luck over the boring drawl of his teacher’s lecture on some ancient piece of literature that nobody really cared about. He knew that Cas would be absorbing the entire lesson anyway. He was one of those weird kids that didn’t even seem to need to be mentally present to understand absolutely everything.

Dean hadn’t been joking when he’d said that he had no choice in this audition thing. He really had to do this play, or he wasn’t going to graduate. He was going to have to quit football, one of the few things he actually enjoyed about this place. How was he going to break the news to his team?

Castiel was still staring at him, worry creasing his face. Dean sighed, and wrote another note.

**You wouldn’t happen to know anything about auditions, would you?**

Cas nodded, and then blushed, realizing quickly that avoiding such obvious movements that would alert the teacher of their communication was the point of the note-passing in the first place, not that it really mattered, because Cas seemed to be every teacher’s favorite. He quickly wrote out his reply and passed him back the paper.

_Yes, I do have some knowledge of the auditioning process. Have you found yourself a monologue?_

Dean sighed.

**No.**

_How about a song?_

**No, not yet. I was going to check in the library during lunch.**

He nodded again, without even noticing the mistake.

_The musical is Rent?_

Dean rolled his eyes.

**Yeah, whatever the hell that is.**

Cas thought for a moment, and then passed him back the note.

_Look for a song in a more rock-like genre. That would fit Rent well._

Rock? In a Broadway musical? Was that a thing? Dean frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

**Hey, how do you know all of this anyway? It’s not like you do theater.**

Cas looked a bit nervous as he read over the note.

_Oh. I have a friend who was sort of interested in auditioning._

Dean gave him a skeptical look, but the other boy just shrugged.

**Okay. Well, thanks for your help Cas. You’re the best.**

Cas beamed at him.

_No problem, Dean. I am always happy to help you out. Tell me how auditions go._

Now Dean was the one who found himself nodding, but he simply smirked at himself when he noticed. He could do this. How hard could it be to find one little monologue and one little song? Surely auditioning could be no worse than athletic try-outs?


	3. Pre-Audition Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday. Dean is already feeling the stress of auditions, and they haven't even started yet. Whatever happened to that courage he had on hunts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Auditions themselves are going to be in the next chapter, I promise. Then the real fun can start... ;)

By the time Friday rolled around, Dean was so nervous that he could barely function. There were a few sweet moments when he was able to savor the briefest semblance of normalcy, but for most of the day he was disgusted to find that his legs felt like limp, shaky noodles, and his heart was beating like a thunderstorm inside his chest. It was the most ridiculous thing, and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t banish the suffocating intensity of his apprehension. Seriously, what the hell? He hunted horrific monsters that were beyond most people’s wildest nightmares without breaking a sweat and he was really freaking out over auditioning for a stupid high school musical that he couldn’t care less about in the first place?

His monologue sat heavy in his pocket like a hunk of lead, while his chosen song, Wayward Son by Kansas, ran mockingly through his mind on loop, the lyrics melding unhelpfully with his lines. He was uncertain all of a sudden if he would even be able to remember any of the words to either at all. With a sigh, he continued down the hall to his class. It was too late to change his mind anyway.

When he got to language arts, Dean was surprised to see that the usually relaxed Castiel was sitting a bit too uncomfortably straight at his desk, visibly shaking slightly as he read rapidly over a piece of paper clenched tightly in his hands. As Dean approached his desk, Castiel’s eyes lifted from the sheet of paper, but he was apparently still unaware of his presence, staring instead not so much at the whiteboard in front of him as through it.

Dean frowned, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Cas.”

The other boy let out a small shout of alarm, slamming the paper face-down on his desk before apparently recognizing his voice and turning to face him. “Oh. Hello Dean,” he said sheepishly.

“Hey,” Dean repeated, and then, raising an eyebrow, “What was that?”

“What?” Castiel asked too quickly, “It was nothing. You just startled me.” He shifted to lean forward and rest his elbows not-so-subtly on top of the paper.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. I meant what’s on the paper, Einstein?”

“T-the paper?” Cas stuttered, shifting suspiciously in his seat. “What, you mean _this_ paper?” he held it up for a second, text-side facing very deliberately away from Dean. “This is nothing. Just… uh… science notes. It is of no import.” With that said, Cas hastily shoved what Dean was by now pretty sure was of far more “import” than some simple science notes into the bottom of his otherwise immaculately organized black messenger bag.

Dean was still curious about the paper, but was too preoccupied with his own problems to press his friend further. “Okay, whatever, do what you want with your paper,” he muttered, and turned to head back to his own desk, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas said, staring intensely at him in that way that made him feel just a bit uncomfortable, “Wait. Are you okay?”

Dean frowned. “Me? Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

Cas gave him a look that told him he was buying it about as much as Dean had been buying the lie about the paper. “Dean. It is normal to feel a bit nervous on the day of auditions. In fact, statistically, more people are afraid of public speaking than death.”

Okay. That was a bit weird. Still, he clearly meant well. “Uh… thanks Cas. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shrugging him off to continue on his way.

“Break a leg,” Cas added as the teacher greeted the class, with something Dean couldn’t quite read in his eyes, “You will do fine.”

Dean gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks Cas. Really. Now shut up! I don’t need to be stuck fighting to pass this class too.”

Cas just laughed, but got out his textbook and got to work.

Strangely, that short conversation managed to calm Dean down so much that by lunch time, he was clear-headed enough to realize that he still hadn’t told his team about his situation. His eyes scanned the table they always shared, and he wondered for a moment how he was going to explain to them all that he was quitting the football team, and in favor of being in a freaking musical, no less. No. He couldn’t deal with that yet. Surely, it would be okay for him to wait and see if he was going to even get into this dumb play in the first place before he went about dismantling his life for it, right?

With a weary sigh, Dean put on a smile and sat down beside his friends. No, there was no need to tell them. Not now, not yet. Not while he could still pretend he wasn’t really going through with all of this.

At the end of the day, however, as he stepped into the drama hall outside of the auditorium where probably 50 plus actors were running frantically around, burning off energy, warming up, and cramming in last-minute practice on their monologues, there was no more denying it. Shit. He was really going to do this. His audition was in ten minutes.

 


	4. Theater Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds thespians to be remarkably loud, but he also manages to run into a friend before auditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. This is not the actual audition chapter. But I'm mostly done with that chapter now, so I can tell you for sure that it really will be next. Sorry.

Dean had only been in the theater hall for a few seconds when, for perhaps the first time ever, he began to wonder if he needed some help with communication after all.

It wasn’t that Dean was shy or anything; in fact, he found it very easy to approach and talk to others. He had been interrogating people ever since he was a little kid on hunts, and in school everybody seemed to admire him with very little effort on his part. He never had any inhibitions when talking to whomever he pleased, or in saying whatever he wanted to say (aside from in those dreaded chick flick moments Sammy for some reason continually sought out.) If he wanted to be friends, it was simple to start up a conversation, and if he wanted to ask somebody out, he just did it. Dean Winchester was not afraid of social situations.

Still, no amount of talking with his popular friends, or squeezing information out of the victims of horrible creatures could have possibly prepared him for this.

Dean usually accessed his drama class through the door that lead into the classroom from the main hallway of the school, so he didn’t spend a lot of time in the theater hall. In fact, he’d been there maybe three times ever, and never before while it was full of drama geeks, so he was completely shocked by the chaos that lay before him.

There were actors _everywhere,_ and even though Dean was pretty sure that at least 90% of them were geeky, fairly quiet kids on most occasions, almost every single one of them appeared to be talking and shouting, and even (god help him), singing at the top of their lungs all at once. There was apparently no limit to the energy of a thespian. Some of them were literally bouncing off the walls. He noticed several playing a game that appeared to be developed for elementary schoolers with great gusto, all erupting in laughter as they yelled something like “WHOOSH!” while apparently passing some nonexistent ball around in a circle. Everybody appeared to already be friends with everybody else, which was odd, because he could barely even recall seeing half of them before in his life. Nobody seemed to hold anything back at all, as if everyone had agreed to tear off every social filter they had. There was so much outrageous personality in that one thin strip of the school that it was blinding. There was so much nervous energy in the hallway that the air crackled with its electricity, making his heart beat even faster, and his breath catch in his throat. It was so overwhelming that he didn’t even know where to start, and he just stood there in shock for a moment, trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to be.

Suddenly, a blond, pretty girl flounced up to him, giving him a brilliant smile. “Hi!” she squealed, “I haven’t seen you around before! Are you new? It’s _so_ nice to meet you! I’m Ambyr! What’s your name? Are you going to audition? What monologue did you choose?”

Dean frowned, taking half a step back from the tirade of questions. “Whoa there,” he said, “Slow down!”

The girl giggled in a way that was just a bit too high-pitched. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to alarm you; I just have so much energy right now! I’m _so_ nervous! Are you nervous? I bet you’re nervous. Don’t be nervous. Theater is fun, you’ll see! I just love Rent! I was up _all night_ working on my monologue, so I’m sorry, but I’m running on like two hours of sleep, and- Oh! Hey!” she waved to somebody behind him, and Dean relaxed visibly for the welcome distraction. That is, until he realized who exactly the girl had been waving to.

 _“Dean?”_ the person behind him gasped.

His heart sank as he recognized the voice, and he turned around with a sigh. He’d been found out. _“Charlie…!”_ he cried, forcing a smile.

“Oh my god, it really _is_ you!” his friend laughed, “NO WAY! What are you doing in my kingdom, Winchester?”

“Uh…” Dean said uncomfortably, unable to meet her eyes. The only person he had told about his plans to audition was Castiel, and as much as he loved Charlie, he just knew she would-

“No!” Charlie gasped dramatically, noticing the monologue sticking out of his pocket, “No way! Dean Winchester, are you auditioning for the musical?!”

“No!” Dean said automatically, while realizing that his protests were completely pointless.

Charlie snatched the monologue out of his pocket. “Seriously?” she asked, rolling her eyes as she read over it, “Shakespeare, Dean? _Really?_ This is Rent, not Hamlet _._ ”

He snatched it back. “Shut up. I couldn’t find anything good.”

She snorted. “Yeah, obviously! Still, I can’t believe you’re auditioning! What, were you forced into it or something?”

Dean scowled. “Maybe.”

“Of course you were,” Charlie snickered, “Oh, this is priceless! Who made you do this? Tell me! I need to thank them, and hug them, and make them cookies!”

“First of all,” Dean muttered, forcing back a smirk, “I hate you. Second of all, it was my stupid drama teacher. I need to do this for the extra credit.”

Charlie whistled. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You were really failing drama?” she teased.

“Shut up,” Dean repeated, although he was now smiling.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Dean. Come on, don’t be such a drama queen. Theater isn’t that bad. You’ll be fine,” then, with a small frown at the paper in her hand, “Even if your monologue is from Much Ado About Nothing _._ Seriously?”

“I am fine,” Dean grumbled, ignoring her comment on his monologue, “I just can’t believe I got pulled into doing something this lame.”

Charlie snorted. “Oh please. Theater is fabulous. Man, how is this the first I’ve heard of you trying out? Sam has a lot to answer to!” She peered around the hallway, as if expecting to find him so she could question him right then and there.

“Sam doesn’t know,” Dean said quickly, “And he isn’t going to!”

Charlie gave him a short little laugh, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Like hell he isn’t!”

“Don’t tell him Charlie,” Dean begged, “I mean it!”

“Dude,” she snorted, “I don’t have to! Sam is in tech. He’s going to be here _all the time!”_

His heart sank. Oh. No. “What?”

She gave him a look. “Yeah, he does all the behind the scenes stuff. He’s actually head of tech. You really didn’t know?”

Dean scowled, avoiding her eyes. “I mean, he might have mentioned _something_ about doing some nerdy crap after school, but I didn’t know he meant _that_ kind of tech! I guess I just kind of figured he was going to do something with computers, or robotics or something.”

Charlie just shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with you Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean muttered.

She shrugged. “He would have found out eventually anyway.”

“I guess,” he sighed.

“Hey.” She said, giving him a small, encouraging smile, “How about we practice? It’s no use just standing here, is it?”

Ambyr, who they had both completely forgotten, beamed at them. “Oh my gosh, that’s a great idea! Hold on, let me grab my sheet music!”

They simultaneously frowned as they watched her skip away, turning to each other with perfectly identical expressions.

“Wanna ditch the ditz?” asked Charlie.

Dean snorted. “You bet.”

They grinned mischievously at each other, and ran off down the halls. Somehow, practicing with Charlie, as annoying as she could be, helped to take the edge off of his nervousness for a while.

That is, until he was called into the auditorium with a group of three other students.


	5. Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's auditions don't go quite exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you auditions were coming up! At long last! Now I can finally cast this thing! Thanks for sticking with me and reading this. It's been a joy to write so far. I was actually working on this story backstage during an actual show I was a part of this last week, so it was decent, ah, method writing. (I played a zombie... "Brains...")

Dean watched from his seat in the front row of the auditorium beside the other potential actors as one by one, every other student in his audition slot stood up to perform.

Ambyr performed first of the four of them. She had a lot of confidence, despite what she’d said earlier about being so nervous Dean noted, not without a hint of jealousy. Still, her monologue, which sounded like the most stereotypical teen monologue available on the internet, fell quite a bit flat. The thing was, Ambyr was hot. Like, Dean had a girlfriend, but dude… Hot as she was though, she had next to no talent whatsoever, probably due to all the empty space in her brain. Her singing voice was quite a bit more impressive, but she didn’t seem to have a good handle on the emotion required by the song. When she got off the stage, Dean noticed, not without a slight twinge of guilt to accompany the thought, that he felt slightly less nervous. If that was all these actors were bringing to the table, maybe he had a chance! Not that he cared if he had a chance. Would he get extra credit even if he didn’t get in? God, he sure hoped so.

The next actor, he was surprised to find out, was Garth. Dean knew Garth, although not particularly well, and although he was a little bit quirky, they were decently friendly acquaintances. Garth’s monologue turned out to be a very good match for the musical, at least as far as Dean could tell based on what Cas had told him about the musical, which wasn’t much. He actually did a decent job at acting it out too, and Dean could definitely tell where he was headed with his interpretation of it. To his surprise, Garth wasn’t a bad singer either, not that he would go as far as to call him spectacular or anything. Overall, his seemed like a pretty good performance. It still appeared to be an attainable level of talent, but seeing Garth perform still made Dean’s worries return a little. If he could perform like that, he’d be perfectly happy with himself, but if there were enough actors at that level… well. He didn’t stand much of a chance of getting cast, did he? Still, it was nice to see Garth do so well. He was a nice guy, and Dean figured that, weird as he was, Garth deserved to be a part of something, and oddly enough, now that he was seeing it, theatre seemed to be a decent fit for Garth, unlike for him. He wished him the best, despite their competition for roles.

Dean did not really know the next guy, who introduced himself as Balthazar, and seemed to fill the stage with his very presence. He strode around the stage with a practiced ease, using far more movement than either Ambyr or Garth had, and all of the space used was used appropriately. His monologue took a darker tone than the previous two, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of the amount of emotion and power the guy imbued in each little word, each sound, and pause, and syllable. There was a poetic sort of flow to the lamentations of his monologue, which only served to help bring across the mood even more. By the end of his performance, Dean looked over to notice that Ambyr was crying into Garth’s shoulder. And then Balthazar sang. Boy, did he sing! The dude was like a freaking pro! What the actual hell? How was he ever supposed to compete with _that_ kind of talent? Dean felt his stomach do a flip. Holy crap, he was doomed!

Worse yet, he was next.

The auditorium was silent for a moment, other than the sound of the director (who was also his drama teacher)’s pencil scratching away at her notes, deciding everyone’s fates. Dean found himself wishing that she would focus on those notes forever, and forget about him. Maybe if his name was never called, he could just slip away and-

“Dean Winchester,” came the dreaded words, echoing through the auditorium.

Dean took a deep breath and stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. The other actors in his audition slot turned to smile encouragingly at him, but he didn’t turn to smile back. As he began to walk slowly up to the steps of the stage, he heard a soft “break a leg” whispered from behind him, but it barely registered. There was nothing but the buzz of adrenaline vibrating through his whole being, leaving him capable of only a couple of simple thoughts, in which he obsessed over the first three words of his monologue. He couldn’t remember the rest. He could only hope he would remember when he started talking.

He took a tentative step onto the stage, so intimidatingly large and empty. He remembered dimly that his teacher had mentioned that Shakespeare once said all the world’s a stage. This stage was like a whole world. It felt distinctly wrong to be up there alone.

He walked briskly to the center, shifted awkwardly between his feet, straightened his shirt, and swallowed. His eyes scanned his tiny, but no doubt extremely judgmental audience, which only served to make the butterflies in his stomach turn into birds, and his legs once again into uselessly shaking limp noodles. Still, there was no turning back. After all the crap he’d faced, he’d be damned if he let some barrier in his own mind tear everything down because he couldn’t freaking speak. Or sing. No. Not sing. That wasn’t yet; he didn’t dare to think of that yet. This moment was the only one in existence.

He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, bounced from foot to foot for a second, and finally spoke. “Uh, hello. I’m Dean Winchester, and this monologue is Dogberry’s from Much Ado About Nothing by the Bard.”

Damn, the auditorium was so silent! There was no noise whatsoever; there would be no noise whatsoever, unless he made it himself. Everyone’s eyes were on him, expectant. He didn’t even want to be here, dammit! He didn’t need this kind of pressure! Why didn’t they just keep their stupid eyes to themselves?

Alright. Calm down. Deep breath.

His drama teacher was smiling at him in a way she probably saw as reassuring, but it only served to make him annoyed that she had forced him up there in the first place.

…Annoyed? That was a feeling. That was good, right? It was good to feel emotions when acting. Emotions. Emotions were not his strong point. Still, annoyed he could work with. His character, Dogberry, was angry, right? That was just kind of super annoyed. If he only took his real emotions and turned them up a notch…

He sighed. Everyone was still staring; waiting. This was so stupid. He shouldn’t have been having this problem. He didn’t have any trouble with people. Who cared about their damn eyes? _He_ didn’t care what those people thought. Dean Winchester did what he wanted; whatever was best for him and his family. And this whole thing could technically be for his family, right? He just needed to graduate to free himself up so he could be a full-fledged hunter, so he could help his dad. More importantly, perhaps, to avenge his mother’s death. Most importantly of all, or course, for Sammy. He needed to be free to hunt, or who the hell was going to keep his little brother safe from the things that go bump in the night?

_Sammy._ The stage fright was gone in a flash. No freaking civilian drama teacher was going to keep him from protecting his baby brother!

He was ready. More than ready. He couldn’t stop the words from coming.

He frowned suddenly at the audience, as if affronted. “Dost thou not suspect my place?” he asked, raising his hands up to his chest in disbelief, with a small, humorless laugh, “Dost thou not suspect my _years?_ O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.”

Dean had been pacing across the stage, shaking his head in quiet amusement for the first couple of lines. Now he stopped, leaving a short space for a suitably awkward silence, under which Conrade, the villain who made the accusation before his lines in the play, might have squirmed. When he spoke again, his voice came out stronger, and he allowed more anger to flow through him. Who did that guy think he was, calling him, _him,_ an ass?

“No, thou villain,” Dean continued, once again slowly, purposefully pacing the stage, eyes glaring at the space above his audience’s heads, “Thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, and, which is more, a householder, and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him.” He paused, allowing a brief moment for the imaginary Conrade to consider this, while his own character basked in his pride for himself. Then, he scowled, and spat. “Bring him away,” he said firmly. “O that I had been writ down an ass!” He smiled, shaking his head at the pure ridiculousness of it all. An ass! Imagine, calling the head of the watch an ass! Bitch please. To voice it was second nature. He laughed again, sarcastically. Conrade would get what he deserved.

Dean paused suddenly, realizing that he had finished the entire monologue, just like that. Everyone stared up at him. The other auditionees full out gaped at him. Dean thought it was probably just the lingering effect of Dogberry’s self-confidence, but they almost looked… impressed. The director’s expression was unreadable. He gulped.

“Uh, yeah,” he said awkwardly, loosening his posture out of his character’s, “That’s all, I guess. Do I…?”

“Introduce your song,” the director instructed him, tone also unreadable. Damn, she was good.

Dean nodded. He wasn’t _that_ nervous anymore. He could play her game. “Sure,” he said, with a small smirk, “This is Wayward Son, by Kansas.”

He opened his mouth to sing, but the strangest thing happened. He turned to face the audience, and his mind went completely blank. The entire song- tune, notes, lyrics, and all- was completely gone. He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. Maybe he wasn’t as ready as he’d thought. Shit.

There was another awkward silence while his mind frantically scrambled to look for any lingering hint of the song he was supposed to be singing. There was no hint. It was gone.

“Mr. Winchester,” the director said, now sounding distinctly bored and tired, “You may begin.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few more times, like a brain-dead fish. Then, he shook his head. Screw it. Who needed that song anyway? He took another deep breath, and amended, “This is Hey Jude, by the Beatles.”

His audience gave him a curious look. He ignored them. The mistake was strangely refreshing, in a way, even though the butterflies in his stomach were returning from their migration, though this time without their beaks and feathers. There was no way he could forget this song, not ever. This song was the one that was his lullaby as a baby, his mother’s sweet voice caressing his tiny ears, back before everything went, sometimes literally, to hell. Well, from hell. He’d never been. Nevertheless, the song provided him comfort. Suddenly, he was calm.

“Hey Jude…” he sang softly, staring off away from the audience, and into his past, “Don't make it bad,take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart; then you can start to make it better.”

The song started off sounding slightly awkward, but Dean found that his confidence rose with every word.

He couldn’t force a bit of a smile off of his face as he got farther into the song. This wasn’t about the audience anymore, or his popularity, or his slipping grades, or even hunting. It was about Mom, and his surviving memories of her.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders… For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder. Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah!”

Okay, so maybe he was having a little fun. Just a bit. His accompanist didn’t have the right music, so Dean himself had been humming the instrumental breaks, but the pianist finally started playing when they were over halfway through the song, having found some sheet music on the internet to read off of his smartphone. Not that Dean needed him. Still, it made things easier, and it was sort of cool, in a totally geeky, stupid sort of way, kind of like he was in a rock band.

“Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her under your skin; then you'll begin to make it better.”

Dean knew that there was more of the song, but his voice faded out a bit as it suddenly occurred to him that his selection was only supposed to be about one minute long, and Hey Jude was about seven. He had probably already been singing for around three. He couldn’t keep on going.

That was slightly irritating. The rest of the song was just as awesome as the first bit. Still, that meant he was done, right? He could get off this damn gigantic stage?

He had just begun to turn and leave the stage, when he remembered how all the other three actors had closed out their performances. Without slowing his stride, he inclined his head slightly towards the audience, with a loud, overly dramatic, “Thank you!”, as if he had been being showered by the praises of his invisible fans. As it was, the audience was just staring at him silently again, just like they had after his monologue. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but did he really even care?

He forgot to thank his accompanist, who simply rolled his eyes. (After all he’d done for this Dean Winchester guy, who couldn’t even get his stupid song selection right, he wasn’t even being thanked! Well! How rude!)

Dean didn’t notice his error, and instead found himself grinning as he strode over to join the other actors. “Done and done!” he cheered. “Diploma, here I come!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> Dean uses a monologue and a song for his audition, and I used actual quotes in these. I did not write his monologue or audition song. Those honors go to William Shakespeare and the Beatles. I'm afraid I'm not quite that talented. I do not claim any ownership to these pieces of work which I quoted, nor do I own said quotes. I am merely using them for effect. So, sorry if you thought I was that cool, even after the story itself credited those works to their real creators. I'm not. Don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.


	6. Stage Fright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel isn't so sure he wants to audition for the musical anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I hope this one turned out okay, because I'm not certain everything played out exactly according to plan. Still, I do like writing for Cas. He's loads of fun. Oh! And this chapter contains some mentions of Destiel. There will be Destiel in this story, which I tagged, but if you missed that, now you know. Don't like it, don't read it, I suppose. Sorry!

Castiel stood alone and stared silently down the theater hall, conflicted.

What was he going to do?

The angel was uncertain of quite how he had ascertained an interest in the dramatic arts, but it was undoubtedly there. Perhaps it was his abnormal curiosity about humans that had also piqued his interest in theatre. It was, after all, an adequate method for observing the cultural customs, mannerisms, and emotions of his father’s creations. There was something very beautiful about the art of acting out a story onstage, something special about such a pure outpouring of the human experience. Most of his brothers and sisters viewed his fascination with humans with disdain, or even anger, yet he couldn’t help his overwhelming desire to learn more, and he knew that theatre was a great way to explore their world.

Balthazar was the one who had recommended that he audition for Rent. The older angel shared his interest in stage performance, although Castiel was fairly certain that for him it was less about the experience, and more about the attention. He remembered well the day when his brother had stopped him in the hall with a grin and a shout of “Hey, Cassie!”, thrusting an audition form and pages of tips he’d obtained at audition camp into his arms.

He really wished he had never been alerted of them.

He had spent the last week and a half trying to decide which was stronger: his powerful curiosity or his paralyzing fear.

“I can do this,” he had told himself several times, while standing alone in his heaven to practice his chosen audition pieces, but the anticipation of his stage fright weakened his every rehearsal. It didn’t help that his siblings kept dropping in on his practices to insult him, or tease him, or mess him up, no matter how many empty threats he made. Eventually he began to loosen up and improve, but he always lost his words in front of an audience of any sort, be it one person, or twenty angels. He had no idea how he was supposed to fix that.

And then there was Dean. As if things weren’t difficult enough! Castiel had no idea why it mattered so much to him that Dean was auditioning, but suddenly everything felt so much more complicated. In fact, he had no idea how he and Dean had ended up being friends at all. It was all quite strange… He knew too well that Dean Winchester was destined to grow up and become the Righteous Man, who would play a big part in the apocalypse, and that it was perhaps not his wisest decision to form any sort of emotional attachment to this hugely important human as a good, obedient little angel, but still, he couldn’t seem to help the way he felt towards him. After all, Castiel was not very good at forming connections with most of his human peers, so he was not very well-liked, or, for that matter, very well-treated, but despite his own popularity, Dean had never been anything but nice towards him, and Castiel found himself contemplating how it could be that somebody with such a good soul could possibly do what he was someday meant to do, how he could possibly cause so much trouble. He shouldn’t have dared to doubt, to disobey, but he couldn’t help but feel a certain attraction to somebody who appeared to be so good at the core (although he dared not admit that Dean’s disregard for such order and apparent freedom despite his destiny may well have been the biggest factors that had managed to capture his curiosity and admiration.) Surely there was nothing wrong with that though? Dean’s life, he knew, was complicated, but he had not yet caused any real harm. His brother did not yet require his permission to use him as his vessel against Lucifer. At the moment, the angel was perfectly content to pretend with the hunter that everything was normal. After all, nobody at school knew about his wings.

Castiel’s performance quality had actually for some time been improving. He had almost managed to calm himself down enough to give it his best, and then Dean had approached him with his own worries about auditioning, and suddenly all of his fears had once more intensified. What had happened he didn’t know, but suddenly the mere thought of performing in front of an audience froze his voice in his throat and made him utterly useless, rendering his rehearsals, which consisted mostly of him frantically trying to force himself to make a sound, equally so. His siblings, of course, found this hilarious. Castiel had more than once threatened to stab Gabriel, who found it particularly so. Then again, that was Gabriel. He had no hope of escaping his brother’s teasing, just as the mortals he frequently pranked were forced to play along with his bizarre tricks. He knew it was all just Gabriel’s idea of fun, but still couldn’t help but feel frustrated when his embarrassment painted his cheeks bright red, and the archangel wouldn’t stop laughing at him. Castiel, in his annoyance, hadn’t spoken to him for several days, (which only served to amuse him more.)

Castiel drew out of his thoughts and regained awareness of his surroundings when he heard his friend, Chuck, calling to him from down the hallway. Startled, he responded with a small wave before Chuck bounded down the hall to meet him.

“Hey Cas,” Chuck greeted him with a nervous grin, “Auditions, huh? You ready?”

He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I am… unsure.”

“What?” he asked with a frown, “Why? You okay?”

Castiel hesitated, and then sighed. “No. I am terrified. I do not think that I can do this, Chuck.”

“I thought you said things were getting better,” Chuck said, staring at him.

The angel shrugged. “For a while they were.”

Chuck sighed. “Cas. You were doing so well! Really. What happened?”

“I… do not really know,” he admitted quietly, “Things were getting better, for a while, but I can’t do it, Chuck. I just can’t. I… I can’t make myself speak. I freeze, I-”

“Come on Cas,” Chuck sighed, “You can do this. I know you can! I’ve seen you act. You’re good. Like, really good. What happened? Was it your brothers and sisters teasing you?”

“No,” he said softly, “They do make fun of me, but that’s alright. It’s not their fault.”

“Then whose?” Chuck asked.

“Nobody’s,” he admitted, and then, upon further thought, “Well. Dean Winchester.”

“What?!” Chuck exclaimed, “No! What did that dumb jock say to you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Castiel assured him, “It’s just… Dean is also auditioning.”

Chuck let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “What? Mr. Football Team? _Acting?”_

He smiled. “I was surprised as well. It was his drama teacher. He’s doing it for extra credit.”

“So, what then? Are you…?”

“I do not know,” he repeated, “Dean was nervous, and it made me nervous, and I don’t know, Chuck. He thinks acting is so lame, and I couldn’t bear… And what if he sees me performing? I’m sure he’ll get in. He’d have to see me performing. And I can’t perform in front of Dean, I just can’t, and-”

“Whoa there,” he laughed, throwing up his hands in surrender to the torrent of words, “Wow. I thought Meg was kidding about you two, but when she’s right, she’s right!”

“Right about what?” the angel asked distractedly, only more stressed out than ever now that he’d managed to voice his problem.

“You’ve got it bad,” Chuck said, with a little knowing smirk.

“I have what bad?” Castiel asked, focusing back in on him, tilting his head in confusion, “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“You and Dean!” Chuck laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me you liked him?”

Castiel’s puzzled expression deepened. “I have told you I like him. Dean and I are friends.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “No, I mean like-like him. Like, you have a big, huge crush on him?”

Castiel frowned. “Do I? I am unfamiliar with such things. How does one know if they have a… a crush on someone?”

Chuck shook his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “Just trust me. You do. That’s why you’re so nervous. It only makes sense.”

Cas nodded, thoughtfully. “Oh. Well, what do I do?”

Chuck snorted. “You’re asking _me?”_

Castiel looked quickly around the area, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I do believe that we are the only ones present in this area’s general vicinity,” he pointed out, “yes.”

Chuck rolled his eyes again, more than used to Castiel’s perpetual puzzlement in everyday situations. “Well, you shouldn’t. I’m afraid I’m far from a love expert.”

Cas just stared at him. “Oh.”

Chuck shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah... You know, you really should audition though. You’re really good, and I’m sure you’d get a part.”

“Thank you Chuck,” the angel said sadly, “But no. I’m afraid I cannot go through with this.”

Chuck bounced a little bit under the influence of his nervous energy. “Guess it’s just me then,” he sighed, “Wish me luck!”

“I was under the impression that this action would garner the opposite effect,” Castiel said seriously, “Or so Balthazar tells me.”

“Yeah,” Chuck muttered, “Whatever. Same difference. I’ll break my leg or whatever it is they say. Actors are weird.”

Castiel shrugged. “You chose to be a part of this, Chuck.”

“So did you,” Chuck pointed out.

The angel looked away. “Yes… So I did,” and then, putting on a weak little smile, “Meg will still be auditioning.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Yay me. I get to be cooped up with Meg Masters every day after school! That should be _great!_ ”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “Meg is always nice enough.”

His friend shook his head, “Yeah, when it suits her. I don’t trust her.”

Castiel shrugged. He couldn’t honestly say that he trusted Meg very much either. He and Chuck had been friends with her for a while, but he was well-aware that she was a demon, which made things at best complicated. Still, Meg really was nice to him, and, confusing as that was, for some odd reason he felt drawn to her company. He generally dealt with his concerns about her by reminding himself daily that he was an angel, and if worse came to worse smiting her would be as easy as raising his hand. Of course, Chuck had no such assurances, not that he was aware that Meg was anything more than super shady and a horrible gossip. Still, she _was_ their friend… probably.

“Well,” Chuck said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Well…” Castiel repeated in similar fashion.

“I guess I should get going,” Chuck said guiltily, starting towards the auditorium, “Are you sure you don’t want to…?”

Castiel smiled. “No. Go on. Have fun! I want to hear all about it.”

Chuck nodded, and grinned. “Yeah. Thanks. Whew! Auditions, here I come!”

As Castiel watched him go, he tried to tell himself that this was all for the best. After all, it wasn’t exactly befitting for an angel of the lord to participate in stage performance. Still, he couldn’t suppress a small, guilty ache in his chest, which told him already that he would surely regret this moment in times to come. He was immensely disappointed in himself, and he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit jealous of Chuck, and Balthazar, and even Dean, reluctant as he was, for all experiencing everything he’d been for a while now dreaming he would. Oh well. There was always next year… That is, if he wasn’t called back to heaven to fight in his garrison, and commanded to abandon his observational studies of humanity altogether. The life of a teenaged soldier, albeit a teenager who was also billions of years old, was not an ideal one. Still, what other life did he have? It wasn’t as if he had a choice. Cas sighed, and started off down the hallways in the direction opposite from the auditorium to find a place to disappear from. His brothers would be waiting. He would never live this one down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I also chickened out of auditioning for Rent. I, however, did not have nearly as good a reason to as Cas did.


	7. The Cast List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out his role in the upcoming musical.

Dean Winchester was definitely not freaking out over the fact that they were posting the cast list today. Nope. Definitely not. This was because he didn’t care what role he got, or for that matter if he got in at all. It was just a stupid musical! Besides, that Balthazar dude, whoever the hell he was, would probably get all the roles. Should that much talent in one person even be allowed? Not fair.

Sam gave him an odd, annoyingly perceptive look all through breakfast. “What’s up with you?” he asked, shoveling another spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered, taking a swig of his Coke, “I’m just peachy.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam replied, unconvinced, “You know, if you need to talk about something…”

“Nope,” Dean said, standing up and grabbing his backpack from the floor beside his chair, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Dean had no idea why he was still pretending that this wasn’t happening to Sam. Charlie was right. It was unavoidable that he would eventually find out. Still, he wasn’t about to discuss his feelings with the kid. He wasn’t some ten-year-old girl!

Sam continued to stare at him for a minute, as if that was going to make him give in and tell him everything. Finally, he sighed. "Alright, if you’re sure…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on Samantha, let’s go to school.”

The ride to school was far too long that morning, despite the low traffic. Sam continued to stare at him, and he found himself squirming in his seat, full of nervous anticipation. He didn’t know why he was nervous. He didn’t know why he felt so eager to see the cast list. He didn’t even know the musical, so it’s not like he’d even recognize any of the characters. Still, Dean had worked pretty hard at his audition, and he supposed it was fair enough to admit, if only to himself, that he was curious to see how well it had gone. It wasn’t like he wanted to be the lead or anything. God no. That would be awful! Still, his teacher had confirmed that he wouldn’t get more than two points of credit if he wasn’t actually involved in the musical itself, so he was hoping he’d at least gotten a small role of some sort. An extra would be okay, he supposed. Dean Winchester as Tree Number Two! Then again, on second thoughts, who wanted to stand in front of the school dressed as a tree?

His heart pounded as he and Sam went their separate ways and he got nearer and nearer to the theatre hall. The usually evenly packed hallway was completely vacant, other than the huge cluster of people standing around the theatre hall’s bulletin board. He watched as various expressions flashed across the faces of the people at the front of the huddle, ranging anywhere from exuberance to dejection, before they forced their way out between the other actors. He came quietly up to the back of the excitedly chattering crowd and was just about to try to figure out how to make his own way through to the cast list hanging at the end of it when Charlie suddenly bounded up to him.

“Oh my gosh!” she gasped, eyes huge, “There you are, Dean! Oh my goodness, have you seen it yet?”

He frowned, and shook his head. “No, not yet. Why, did you…?”

“I got in!” Charlie squealed, dancing around in place. “I got a part!”

“Wow,” Dean said, “Really? That’s great Charlie! What’d you get?”

Charlie settled down, but her eyes were still shining. “That’s the best part!” she cried, “I’m one of the leads! I got Maureen!”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch,” he gasped, “You’re amazing!”

Charlie smirked. “I know. But that’s not really the best part. Go on, ask me!”

Dean frowned. “Why, what’s the best-”

She let out an excited little screech and pulled him into a congratulatory hug. “You got in too! And you got Roger!”

Dean felt awash with relief, although there was still a certain residue of adrenaline left behind, giving him a weird, confused feeling, “I did? Wait… what? Who’s Roger?”

“Dean,” she said, grinning, “Roger is one of the biggest roles in the entire play! Congratulations, Winchester! You’re a natural!”

Dean just stared at her. “No. What? You’ve gotta be joking!”

“Nope!” Charlie cried, “You got it! Go on, see for yourself!”

Slowly, surreally he made his way through the crowd of thespians to the cast list. There right near the top of the page was his name, listed next to his role:

_Roger Davis… Dean Winchester_

Oh. No.

Charlie was right- he was a natural!

Why couldn’t he have just been Tree Number Two?

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering posting the list as the next chapter... Or maybe not. We'll see.


	8. The Cast List Part B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The actual list part.)  
> Who got in? The all-powerful list tells all.

Dean took a deep breath, and continued reading the list, assessing his company.

_Mark Cohen… Chuck Shurley_

_Roger Davis… Dean Winchester_

_Mimi Marquez… Lisa Braeden_

_Benny Coffin III… Crowley MacLeod_

_Maureen Johnson… Charlie Bradbury_

_Joanne Jefferson… Meg Masters_

_Tom Collins… Balthazar Novak_

_Angel Shunard… Alan J. Corbett_

_Mrs. Cohen… Sera Siege_

_Alexi Darling… Bela Talbot_

_Mr. Jefferson…  Harry Spangler_

_Mrs. Jefferson… Abaddon Knight_

_Mrs. Davis… Sarah Blake_

_Mrs. Marquez… Pamela Barnes_

_Mr. Grey… Ed Zeddmore_

_The ~~Man~~ Woman… Ruby Cortese_

_Paul… Garth Fitzgerald IV_

_Gordon… Andy Gallagher_

_Steve… Michael Wheeler_

_Ali… Ambyr Monroe_

_Pam… Tara Benchley_

_Sue… Ava Wilson_

_Squeegee Man… Ash Miles_

_Homeless Woman… Amy Pond_

_Waiter… Aaron Bass_

_Carolers: Anna Milton, Cupid Novak, Ava Wilson, Ambyr Monroe, Andy Gallagher_

…Not that any of the roles meant anything to him, although since both he and Charlie, who were apparently leads, were near the top, and the carolers were, he assumed, the ensemble, he could infer that the roles were in order of size. Making him… Second biggest? _Shit._

A few other things jumped out at him:

  1.        Balthazar had gotten pretty high on the list, as he’d suspected.
  2.        Garth and Ambyr also got in.
  3.        Sam seemed to like a lot of theatre nerds.
  4.        Oh god, Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? This really was geeks unleashed!
  5.        Ash did theatre? Since when? And Pamela?
  6.        He really didn’t like some of the people up there.
  7.        And Anna? His ex-girlfriend? Just his luck.
  8.        LISA? Since when did Lisa do theatre?! WHAT? She was _so_ not supposed to know about this! Who told her?!



Things were looking worse by the second. How much did graduating high school mean to him, really?

“Dean?” Charlie asked beside him, snapping her fingers in front of his face, “Dean! Earth to Dean Winchester!”

He jumped. “Huh?” He was surprised to see that the hallway was now almost entirely empty.

Charlie sighed at him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like class?”

“Yeah maybe,” he muttered, “Maybe I should just drop out.”

She rolled her eyes, steering him towards the main hall, “Or maybe you should just be a big boy and suck it up! Obviously you’re good at this.”

“That’s what I was afraid of!” Dean moaned.

Charlie slapped him playfully. “Come on Dean, do you _know_ how many people probably wanted that role?”

“They can have it,” he grumbled, kicking viciously at a dropped pencil.

“Seriously,” she sighed, “Don’t you think you may be being just a bit melodramatic?”

Dean turned to glare at her. “Am I? How long has Lisa been in theatre?”

“Lisa,” Charlie snorted, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he cried, “She can’t see me like this! She’ll tell everyone! What, did someone tip her off as a joke?”

Charlie gave him a disapproving frown. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Everything’s not all about you! Lisa always tries out.”

He blinked. “Seriously?” Lisa? A theatre geek?

Charlie nodded firmly. “Really. She’s really into it, actually. Great singer. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Doesn’t she talk about it?”

Dean coughed awkwardly. “We uh… We don’t do a whole lot of… you know… Talking.”

Charlie just shook her head at him. “Un-be-lievable.”

“Right…” Dean sighed, “But still. How am I supposed to be a freaking _lead?_ Charlie, before auditions I had never been onstage before in my life!”

“And obviously that didn’t do a thing to stop you from rocking it,” she pointed out. “Dean, come on. Just give it a chance! I promise, you’ll be fine.”

He scowled at the floor. “I guess…”

Carlie nodded. “Good. Now I’m going to get to class before my math teacher kills me. See you at rehearsal tonight!”

“Wait,” Dean cried after her, “Tonight? Already?”

“Yep!” Charlie called back over her shoulder, waving, “See you there!”

Fan-freaking-tastic.


End file.
